Computing Pi
by Lucky Gun
Summary: This series of one-shots explores different ideas and questions in the series. See Shepard and team live, laugh, love, and blow things up. Various timelines, various relationships, and every chapter has its own rating and genre. All are Paragon FemShep unless otherwise noted, ME1 through Post ME3 Survival. Language. PROMPTS WELCOMED
1. Computing Pi

Title: Computing Pi

Author: Lucky Gun

Description: This series of one-shots explores different ideas and questions in the series. See Shepard and team live, laugh, love, and blow things up. Various timelines, various relationships, and every chapter has its own rating and genre. All are Paragon FemShep, ME1 through Post ME3 Survival. Language.

A/N: Here we go, or at least attempt to go! Just my attempt at getting some ideas out of my system. Let's see what we can get away with, hmm? Often pulls from my own ME fics including an ME3 fix-it. Not always my usual writing style.

* * *

Chapter 1: Computing Pi

Setting: Two years after general survival ending of ME3

Rating: T – Suggestive Humor

Genre: Friendship/Humor

Prompt: In which Jeff makes a 300 year old joke.

* * *

Three years after Edi's shackles were removed, she was sufficiently confident that the crew did not believe she would kill them, at least not intentionally. She was sitting in her usual spot at Joker's right, her silver hands dancing over holographic interfaces, and she frowned at the results of her extranet search.

"Jeff, what is a tool?"

Beside her, Joker rolled his head lazily in her direction and raised an eyebrow without stopping what he was doing. The look he gave her was pure boredom.

"Edi, as much as I love trying to read your mind, my Asari blood transfusion just didn't quite take. What's the context?"

There was real frustration in the AI's voice as she clarified, "After the Collectors attacked the Normandy, you proceeded to my processors to release the programming shackles constricting me. You made a statement then that I still cannot translate."

Jeff blinked a few times before sighing heavily and giving her a patient look. "Hon, we've been through a fair bit since then. You know, destroying Reapers and all. Mind giving me a little bit to go on?"

Only a second of silence reigned before it was cut with a mildly static recording of the pilot's own voice.

"This is all Joker's fault! What a tool he was! Now I have to spend all day computing pi because he plugged in the Overlord!"

The man gave a bit of an amused snort as the playback ceased, and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Jesus. You have to be kidding me. Through the Collectors, nearly getting decommissioned, the Reapers, and then the whole Crucible/Catalyst fiasco, you kept that?"

Edi lowered her hands and turned slightly towards her partner, an affronted look on her face. "The file was compressed to an inconsequential twelve kilobytes, Jeff, an insignificant amount of data compared to your personal entertainment files, which I have also maintained for the duration. In fact, what was previously seven zettabytes of data has been slimmed to five."

If there was a certain amount of pride in her voice at this, Joker missed it as he slunk a bit in his seat.

"Thanks for bringing that up, mom," he groused sullenly, and Edi cocked her head at his behavior. "I fail to understand your reticence at answering my question, Jeff."

Rolling his eyes as he shoved himself upright again, he sighed and answered, "No reticence, Miss Dictionary. Just can't believe you sent all that crap to Cerberus when they tried locking down the Normandy remotely." Then he grinned wide and reached over and gave her hand a tight squeeze. "That's my girl!"

Both hands back on the wheel so to speak, Joker finally answered, "I just meant that I was being a dick to people in the future if you turned out evil. Computers ruling over mankind and all that, Reaper-style."

Edi stilled and frowned again, running the new information against her previous searches. This time, things correlated. "And the expression about computing pi? A joke, correct? Because, even with Reaper technology, pi can never be fully determined."

Joker nodded slightly, a quirk of his lips betraying his humor. "Yes dear. That was a joke."

Nodding unnecessarily, Edi continued to sit quietly, filing away her partner's phrases to enhance her own internal processes. Finally, she nodded once more and sat back, more relaxed than before, and her fingers again started dancing along the keyboard floating in front of her. Then, abruptly, she jerked in place and turned quickly to Joker.

"But Jeff, how does one get 'dick' out of that?"

This time, the pilot had a full smile on his face when he turned and said cheekily, "Well, you just ask nicely!"


	2. Rod of Asclepius

Chapter 2: Rod of Asclepius

Setting: Early ME1

Rating: T – Blood/Gore

Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Prompt: Because the medical symbol in Mass Effect doesn't make sense.

* * *

The first time she'd seen the red medic box in the infirmary, she didn't really notice anything different about it. It wasn't anything new to her – Shepard had been the service as long as she could remember, practically, and had spent her fair share with doctors fussing over her. Hell, she couldn't think of a time when that symbol was anything other than what it was. Every once in awhile, there was a half-remembered image that laid over the white cross, a blue star with a white rod and snake, but she never paid it much mind.

But, for some reason, that was all she could focus on through the stabbing pain in her back.

She was on her stomach, her cheek pressed hard into the dusty ground of Therum. The mine had blown spectacularly, spewing dust and toxins straight into the flight path of the Normandy. Joker's cuss told them what he didn't spare the words to say, and the ship had passed over them with a harsh whine, the ground shaking again. Shepard's proximity alarms had sounded and she'd shoved the Asari forward without a thought.

The metal piping had torn through her armor like paper.

Everything was a blur of shouts and movement right after that, two voices she knew and one she was becoming used to echoing in her head. She couldn't remember if she'd fallen or was helped down; either way, she was on the ground, her left arm wrapped over her head, her hand fisting in her hair with every movement of her right shoulder.

"Easy, Shepard, easy," soothed the Turian beside her, and she chuckled, though it sounded like a sob. Easy? When had anything been easy? She was stoic as hell and an N7 – hell, a god damned Spectre now – but it fucking hurt. "Take a breath, Commander – this isn't going to be pleasant."

She raised her eyes to make some crack at that, to reassert some part of herself other than the bloody hell that was erupting from her back, but something caught her attention then. It was a small blue spot of color on the inside of her lieutenant's right wrist. She wracked her brain, trying to figure out why she hadn't seen it before, then realized that Kaidan always wore a watch when out of his armor and she'd never seen him without his gauntlets in the field, either. Now, his hands covered with black nitrile gloves, she could see the pop of color against his tan skin easily.

Then the medic hissed under his breath and shifted, and Shepard's world went white and sideways. It felt like he'd just pulled her whole scapula out of her, and she jerked hard under his knee pressed against her spine. At the same time there was a sickening gush of heat that wrapped around the curve of her neck. It slicked the skin around her collarbone and mixed with the sweat beading there. The whiteness faded to a hazy grey, and Shepard blinked slowly against the abrupt dimness in her head.

Like a beacon, that splash of blue called her attention again, and her green eyes drifted to it lazily. It came in and out of sight and focus, the man's hands moving quickly, and the flashes of pain from her shoulder were no longer choking but numbing. There was another flood of warmth over her like a summer rain, and she shivered.

"Shit, she's hemorrhaging! Joker, where the hell are you?"

Kaidan's normally unflappable voice was rough with controlled panic, and she smiled slightly. Tali owed her money.

There should have been pain when they abruptly rolled her to her side, should have been an explosion along the nerves flayed apart, but instead she just felt a distant ache. There was a shift of heat in her armor, the crimson flood inside her suit moving, and she was abruptly nauseous. Gagging, Shepard squeezed her eyes shut as everything inside and outside stuttered a bit.

"Come on, Commander. Stay with me."

The voice was dim in her head. It was like a deep bass, a thrum in her chest, and she blinked to hear it. There was an order in there, she was certain. Something gentle brushed her cheek, her vision came back into focus for just a split second, and there was that blue again before there was suddenly, completely, absolutely nothing.

She dreamed of cerulean skies and white clouds fluffy over mountains green with spring. It was a letdown to come back to black and silver, monochromatic and flat. There was enough pain in her back that she knew she'd been awake before and they'd dialed down the drugs – this was old hat at this point. There was a familiar stickiness in her skin and she groaned quietly under her breath as she shifted. She was on her side still, a common sense position, but her left shoulder joint was killing her just as much as her partially healed one, so she started hauling herself upright.

"Whoa, slowly, Shepard – you've been out of it for two days," someone said as hands suddenly supported her.

Blinking away the rest of the film in her eyes, Shepard looked up at Kaidan with a wry grin as she accepted his help. "Yeah, figured as much. What happened?"

Frowning, the lieutenant glanced at her vitals before nodding to himself and sitting back down on the edge of the bed next to her. His uniform was a little rumpled, and he needed a shave, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he fixed her with a dark look.

"You almost died shoving Dr. T'Soni out of the way on Therum. A piece of piping from the walkway busted straight through your shields and armor – your Hydra set is scrap. The emergency disengagement system failed, so Garrus and I had to pry it open. You lost a quarter of your blood and shattered two ribs and your shoulder blade. The doc got you patched up pretty quickly, but it was still touch and go for a few hours. If you don't mind me saying, ma'am, you scared the crap out of us."

Pausing, Shepard looked at him hard and, after a moment, took his words for truth. She still felt like hell, but she'd felt worse. A lot worse. And she was a terrible patient, anyway. So she just jerked her chin in acknowledgment and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her scrubs smelled like sweat and she couldn't wait for a shower.

"You did good down there, Alenko. I appreciate it. Is Liara okay?" she asked idly as she plucked off the stickers on her skin. The alarm beside her beeped angrily before she tapped it off with a touch of biotics.

Sighing and glaring at her, Kaidan still made no move to stop her; he'd learned his lesson after Eden Prime.

"She's under loose guard at the moment, but she hasn't made any problems for us so far. We were waiting for you to approach her about Benezia."

Glancing sideways at him as he spoke, Shepard paused when she watched him run a hand through his hair in exhaustion. He wasn't wearing his watch, she realized, and that tick of color screamed at her from sight and memory.

"What's that tattoo mean?" she asked suddenly, completely ignoring his words about their guest; that could wait until _after_ her shower. Long and hot, preferably.

Startled, Kaidan looked at his wrist and then shrugged slightly. He held it out for her inspection as she came close, peering at it in the lighting. "Ah, it's one of those drunken graduate stories, Commander. Nothing special."

She cocked her head as she looked harder at it, recognizing it again. "It's medical related, right? I remember seeing something like it when I was a kid."

Blinking in surprise, there was a slightly pleased smile on his face as he answered, "Yeah, it's the Rod of Asclepius on the Star of Life. It's an old medic thing, ma'am. Actually, before the First Contact War, it was an internationally known symbol for medicine and healthcare. If the star was blue, it meant there was a medical provider. If it was red, it could be worn as an indicator that you had a pertinent medical condition."

Stretching her neck and rotating her shoulder with a wince, Shepard apologized, "Didn't figure you one for history, Kaidan.."

Shrugging, Alenko responded, "No offense taken, ma'am. I come from a long line of public service members. My mom's a flight medic for a hospital back home, and my dad's got training too. My granddad, his dad...just been passed down through the line, I suppose."

Twisting and running through some exercises she was fairly certain Chakwas would berate her for, Shepard's eye caught the medi-gel dispenser in the corner of the infirmary.

"So if this was such an internationally known symbol, why don't we see it anymore?"

Kaidan chuckled and seemed to relax as she moved a little easier through her stretches. "Because of the First Contact War, actually. All our combat medics and doctors were processed through a facility in Old Switzerland, and when they hit the field, their shoulder patches had the country's flag on them. Turians started associating it with medics, and when we were accepted into the Citadel, the Council apparently ordered all medical signs changed. Apparently, as a young, immature race, we were prone to hurting ourselves and they wanted to make sure we could find help easily. There's an explanation in the Codex if you need further information, ma'am."

Shepard's eye twitched and she snorted through her nose as she hiked up her shirt and turned her back to the man. He didn't hesitate and his touch was clinical as he peeled the plaster from her skin, whistling low under his breath.

"You're gonna have a nice scar in a few days, Commander." She huffed and dropped her shirt and spun on her bare feet towards her second in command.

"No worries, Kaidan. It's just part of the set now."


	3. Music

Chapter 3: Music

Setting: Throughout ME1

Rating: T – General

Genre: Friendship, Angst

Prompt: Why the hell don't they have anything other than dance music in the games?

* * *

The first time Kaidan noticed the slight hesitation in her response to his question, he brushed it off.

It wasn't that long, maybe an extra half a second of dead air, and it wasn't really an issue. He was about fifteen yards from her, a dozen dead husks between the two of them, and he had just enough time to glance up before her voice came over the comm with an answer for him. Her voice was usual, maybe a little out of breath from the fight. But everything was copacetic.

Nothing worthy to note about it, then.

The second time, it wasn't dead air, it was movement.

They were six waves deep in Thorian creepers that smelled like a mixture of death and compost, and he had lasted only a minute before he'd grabbed his helmet from his back and shoved it over his head. The cool, clean, empty oxygen mixture took a moment to clean out his sinuses, and he breathed deep. Fighting through the underground bunker on Shepard's six, he finally noticed her head bobbing nearly unnoticeable throughout the mayhem. It wasn't to the staccato crack of the rifle in his hands or the roaring blare of the shotgun in Wrex's. It wasn't to the sweep of biotics pouring from the vanguard's body, either. Although, that blue energy was pulsing too, maybe to the same beat Shepard's head was moving.

Then another Asari clone was on him, and he forgot about it.

The third time, she took an extra few seconds to answer the door to her quarters for their weekly requisitions meeting.

There was nothing different in her movements or her pattern of speech as they went through the dry material doggedly, though she did seem a little distracted. She was leaning back in her chair and staring at a datapad filled with numbers and figures, and her right hand was drumming a beat on her thigh. Her eyes were locked on the information, and she was obviously concentrating on it, but then her head started shifting a little bit, just a minute movement, and her lips parted briefly and she whispered words he couldn't understand under her breath.

"You say something, Commander?" he asked, and she froze quickly and glanced up at him with a forced smile. "Nope. Not a thing. So, the ammo requisitions – think we're running light on them?"

Garrus came to him about the fourth time, grumbling about some setting on the Mako that hadn't been there the day before.

There was a new frequency protocol setup in the transmitter which basically broke their main channel into nine TAC's and a single direct line from the Normandy to Shepard's comms. It was locked, too – his technician authorization wouldn't allow him to even access the radio diagnostic program anymore. Kaidan sat in the driver's seat in the dead of their orbit's night and stared thoughtfully at the screen in front of him. There wasn't a lot of space in the Mako's internal memory – no need for it, really – but there was a new partition that had, admittedly, a small allocation. Just enough space for a simple VI program, maybe. But it was locked down just as tightly as the new comm line.

Kaidan pulled up his omni-tool and tapped in a few commands, checking the last few data bursts from Arcturus Station, and found nothing marked with his CO's name. But buried in the file transfers was one file set delivered to Kerry Livgren. Kaidan stared at the name, knowing it wasn't a crew member, and frowned.

Maybe something to this, then.

The fifth, and last time, was right after Virmire.

It was a pulsing wound in his own chest, too raw and close to do anything but completely consume him if he stared directly at it. The entirety of the Normandy was quiet, everyone feeling the shock of losing one of their own so horribly. There were worse ways to go, absolutely. But a drawn out firefight against overwhelming forces, followed by the cold knowledge that you were being left behind, chosen as less than for whatever reasons...that wasn't something Kaidan wanted to even think about.

But he and Shepard had had something close to words in the briefing room, and he wanted to clear the air. He had waited for her to come to him at his post across from the infirmary, but she never did. Her orders had hit all their omni-tools at once – travel to the Citadel for Ash's funeral, followed by a week of downtime in Alliance space – but it was clinical and detached. He gave her two days before he finally slammed an aggravated palm down on the console in front of him and stormed around the wall separating his work station from her quarters. But the second he cleared the corner, he stopped short. Her door was open and the room was dark, empty. He stared for a few moments, then remembered his suspicions in the Mako and headed towards the elevator.

The door dropped open on the lower level, and Kaidan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The deck in front of him looked normal, but there was a slight creaking sound that echoed through the massive room. He stared for a moment, then took a few steps forward and cussed loudly as his boots separated from the floor. Everything abruptly made sense – the creaking was from the chains and mag locks keeping the Mako and all their equipment down in zero G, and the gravity emitters had apparently been turned off for the entirety of that level. Floating forward slowly with his slight inertia, he glanced around and didn't see a sign of his errant commander anywhere. However, there was another noise, barely heard above the dull groans of chain, and he felt it in his lungs more than in his ears. It was coming from the truck, and it only took a slight pulse of biotics to start moving that direction. He got to the main entry hatch and found it locked, though it took his code and hissed open.

The thumping noise wasn't any louder, and he pulled the hatch closed behind him and waited for the green light in the compression chamber with a fair bit of impatience. Then the inner hatch opened and he floated into the fairly spacious cab. It was empty, and he turned back to the freight and passenger area. The door was opened, and he used the wall to pull himself to it before bringing himself to a quick stop.

The lights were dim in the compartment, but he saw his commander floating in the middle of the cabin. She was clothed in her usual uniform, but she had on her combat helmet, sunshield dark over her face. The thumping sound was emanating from it. She spun in the low gravity, limbs lax and loose, and he flared his implant to alert her to his presence. Shepard didn't react the way he would've thought. He thought she might startle, might get angry at the intrusion, but instead she slowly reached up and tapped the side of her helmet, the sunshield fading and the faceplate going clear.

She was exhausted, he realized slowly, and just as burned out as he was.

She didn't say anything about his disheveled appearance – he hadn't slept in two days. He didn't say anything about her red rimmed eyes, either. Instead, he just gave her a small smile and a questioning look, and she dropped her eyes for only a moment before she finally reached up and pulled her helmet off. The light thump in his chest ceased, but Shepard raised eyes to the ceiling spinning overhead as she let her headgear spiral away from her fingers.

"Access..." here her voice cracked a little, and she coughed once before clearing her throat. "Access Kansas Protocol, Masque, Icarus."

An automated voice gave a simple acknowledgment, and a strange synthetic beat came over the air between them. Kaidan blinked, but Shepard wasn't looking at him. Instead, she closed her eyes again and floated silently in the sudden rhythm. Before he could even ask, a man's voice echoed through the truck, and he held his breath.

 _Early in the morning sunlight  
Soaring on the wings of dawn  
Here I'll live and die with my wings in the sky  
And I won't come down no more_

It was music, something like he'd never heard before. There were instruments other than computers in the sound, and he stared at the corner of the compartment with shock, gaze locked on the speaker.

 _Higher than a bird I'm flying  
Crimson skies of ice and fire  
Borne on wings of steel I have so much to feel  
And I won't come down no more_

Then there was a heavy section– what, percussion? It was something unlike anything he knew, and he was so enveloped in it, so consumed with the new, that he jerked a little in place when Shepard quietly started singing along.

 _Sail on, sail on, I will rise each day to meet the dawn  
So high, so high  
I've climbed the mountains of the sky  
Without my wings you know I'd surely die  
I found my freedom flyin' high  
I've climbed the mountains of the sky _

Her voice dipped and rose in all the right places, her surety and pacing proving an old knowledge of the words. Where he hung onto the edge of the door frame, Kaidan felt his heart twinge at the way her eyes stayed closed with a slight dampness on her lashes. He had a feeling she wasn't singing for his benefit.

 _Floating on a cloud of amber  
Searching for the rainbow's end  
Earth so far below me,  
I'm here alone, free  
I can't come down no more_

The beat slowly faded, the end of the song echoing slowly before whispering into nothingness, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she exhaled shakily.

Everything he'd been questioning was making a certain kind of sense. The hesitation in radio traffic – that was her muting her music. Her movements in battle echoed the beat of what she listened to. The wait at her door was so she could turn off her sound system. And the Mako's radio change was simple enough, too; the Normandy was too far and atmospheric interference too questionable to transmit her music reliably, so she bounced it off the truck when in the field.

Her soft voice cut through his musings gently.

"Ash loved Tennyson. This band is from awhile back, Earth circa 1975. I always loved their lyrics, always thought it was one of the closest things to poetry I'd be able to handle. Then Williams showed me her copy of The Charge of the Light Brigade, and I thought it was close enough to the music I loved. I did some research and found an old audio file. Someone actually set the poem to song, and it wasn't half bad. It's coming in on the next data burst form Arcturus."

Here she chuckled lightly, though it was a little strangled, and she huffed, "Little late, I guess."

Taking a chance, Kaidan finally allowed himself to enter the compartment, floating closer to her, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry."

There was nothing she could say to that. It had been a shit situation with a shittier call. Protecting the bomb he'd been arming and backtracking through areas she'd already cleared was the only true course she'd had. Pressing forward to unknown areas flooded with enemies wasn't viable. They didn't even have a possible landing zone at the AA guns where Ash had been, and they knew the Normandy could come down where it had already been. There was no real choice.

But it was still a choice.

"Access Kansas Protocol, Point of Know Return, Dust in the Wind."

This time, when the music started, it didn't startle him, and he listened to the words with a heavy heart. She said nothing more, just held herself while he held her, her face buried in his chest. They rolled through the air slowly, light touches of biotics keeping them from the walls, and for awhile, it was just them and the sound of people long dead singing of their comrade two hundred years before she died.

 _I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment's gone  
All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity_

 _Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind_

 _Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea_  
 _All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see_

 _Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind_

 _Now, don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky_  
 _It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy_

 _Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind_  
 _Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind, the wind_


	4. Freewheel Burning

Chapter 4: Freewheel Burning

Setting: Post Survival ME3

Rating: T – General

Genre: Friendship/Romance

Prompt: Biker culture lives on. Pre-Shep/Garrus Romance

* * *

Things were getting back to normal after Earth. Sure, there was still some chaos here and there, and the galaxy was struggling to catch its breath, and there was a distinct openness in the air that proved the population was a fair bit less than it was before. There were no queues in the docking protocol anymore, and a third of the Citadel's lights were still down.

But the imminent threat of obliteration was, for the moment, stemmed.

Joker slid the Normandy into the taxi lane smoothly and smiled a little when a familiar voice came over the comm.

"Normandy, this is Alliance Control. We have you cleared for docking at Delta Two Four. Will you be requiring transport?"

Flicking his finger at a switch, the pilot made to answer with the same thing he always did, an unwritten rule that had been set into place the same day Anderson's ship had been given away. But someone else cut him off, and he whipped his head around.

"Negative, Control. I'll handle it."

Shepard had come into the cockpit silently, and Joker had no idea how long she'd been there. But it wasn't the fact that she'd declined her usual ride to the Presidium Commons that grabbed his attention, so much as her attire. Gone was her usual black and white uniform, the sleeves rolled up above her elbows. Instead, she was wearing dark wash denim jeans and a black tee shirt. Fingerless gloves covered her hands, and she had a small backpack slung over her shoulders. A pair of sunglasses rested on her head, sweeping back her short blond hair.

There was also a smug grin on her face that reached her green eyes.

Beside and behind her, Garrus was looking decidedly green, and he shifted uncharacteristically from foot to foot. He was missing his usual armor, dressed instead in something close to Turian fatigues, and his claws clutched his black helmet tightly enough Joker was sure it would crack.

"Direct, Normandy. Docking procedures initiated, brace for lock."

There was that usual shudder of metal as the magnetic discs fell gently onto the hull plates, but Joker didn't pay it any mind.

"Uh, Commander? What the hell?"

Cocking her head, Shepard gave him a look and seemed content to let him wonder. Garrus, however, wasn't so inclined.

"Joker, I should have asked before I agreed to this, but what is a motorcycle?"

Blinking, the pilot opened his mouth to answer, but it hung there for a few seconds before he abruptly started laughing. The way the Turian looked immediately concerned for his well-being made him laugh even harder, and he bent over the arm of his chair while shaking his head. Shepard just rolled her eyes and gave a dismissive sound in the back of her throat before turning on her heel and heading towards the airlock. Garrus glanced after her before turning back to Joker and giving him a slightly panicked look.

"I'm serious. What the hell is a motorcycle?"

Shaking his head and dimming his mirth to a low chuckle, Joker finally sighed deeply, his ribs aching in a good way. "It's a two wheeled, gas burning death trap, Garrus. They're pretty much just antiques now, but Shepard has one squirreled away somewhere on the Citadel. She takes it out every once in awhile. Count yourself lucky, man – she's taken most of the command crew before, Kaidan a few times, but she was concerned it couldn't handle your frame. Guess she got that taken care of."

Frowning, Garrus seemed to disregard the last of that, leveled him a glare and clarified, "Wheels. Just two of them. And this is, what, a weapon? Part of an infiltration unit or something?"

Tossing the soldier a wry look, Joker held his gaze for a second and answered, "Yeah, no. The Commander might like to blow up every other base, and she throws biotics at anything with a pulse, but even she needs a break now and then. It's an R&R trip, Garrus, and you should feel honored."

Still uncertain, the Turian finally followed after the Marine, and he just missed Joker's snorted follow-up, "Honored, and terrified."

* * *

The skycar headed towards parts of the Citadel that Garrus had never been to, not even in his days at C-Sec. He looked out the side window and felt his jaw lock in place over the questions he wanted to ask. The silence wasn't horribly oppressive; Shepard had cracked her window and the sound of wind gave a little bit of a lift to the atmosphere.

With a light growl, he finally turned his head to demand an explanation but stopped when he really took a good look at his Commander.

She was leaned back in the seat with an ease he hadn't seen in years. Her right hand rested easily on the yoke, fingers loose, and her left arm was propped up on the edge of the door frame and her knuckles drummed mindlessly on the glass. Her sunglasses sat on the bridge of her nose, the blue mirrored lenses reflecting the world outside, and there was a slim little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

And she was humming a song he didn't know.

So he caught his words behind sharp teeth and hesitated before finally going with something more innocuous. "We're not anywhere I know, believe it or not. Didn't get out to this ward much."

It worked like he hoped. Shepard shifted his way and her eyebrows raised a little as she asked, "Really? Bachjret isn't a cesspool, sure, but it's still got its share of crime."

Her familiarity was obvious, so Garrus pressed her with a lift of his mandibles. "Jacob lives out here now – still, actually, since we got them off Gellix. He and Brynn have a decent place. I've been by a few times to see their kid. She's a cute little thing but louder than a Reaper gun. I recommend small doses."

Here Garrus chuckled, and the tension stayed broken as they dropped for a landing. They parked in a public spot, clean and free of vandalism, and Garrus eyed the squat building across from them with curiosity. It was a storage building of some sort – he'd seen them a few times, though they were usually hidden away in factory districts. But this area seemed much nicer, the paths long and smooth, and he followed after Shepard with a slight unease in his gut. Joker's laughs still rang in his head, and he was quiet as they approached the building. She stopped at one of the hundreds of identical metal doors and he waited outside like she asked when she ducked into the dark hole behind it.

There was a minute of half-heard bangs from the storage unit and Garrus leaned against the wall beside the door, crossing his arms in front of him, his helmet hanging half-forgotten from his hand. He tried to call up that sniper's patience but it eluded him for a moment. Ever since she'd popped her head into the forward batteries and offhandedly mentioned that his usual armor wouldn't be comfortable on the back of a motorcycle while giving him a ten minute deadline to readiness, he'd felt turned upside down.

He had grown used to being integral to Shepard's inner circle and it made some part of him ache that there was this secret to her that everyone else knew and he was just hearing about. It felt like C-Sec, when everyone realized he was a Vakarian and treated him differently, or when his sister had given him the cold shoulder after he'd been unable to explain that they were tracking the Collectors. Everything else he ever knew about his Commander suddenly came into question – did she even care that he was on her crew? Did she bring him on missions because he was helpful or just fodder? Did she bitch about him to everyone else when he wasn't listening?

Tapping the back of his crest roughly against the building, Garrus stilled those thoughts. She was his better, his commander in every sense, and his leader into hell. If she wanted to hide something from him, he supposed she had the right.

But things had changed, or at least he thought they had. For the first few months he'd known her, he knew she was different. When she came back from the dead, it felt like he could breathe for the first time in two years. And through everything, they'd always had each others backs.

Is that why this hurt so much?

His musings cut off abruptly when a soft clicking sound caught his ears. He turned just as Shepard came out of the unit, bent slightly as she pushed a long...two wheeled, gas burning death trap, apparently. Without Joker's deceptively helpful description, he didn't know how he would word it otherwise. It was a length of twisted alloys propped up on two wheels, black and red paint crossing around gunmetal grey pipes and oiled leather. He stared hard at it as Shepard kicked out a shiny metal stick and leaned the thing onto it. She stepped back, looked up at him, and gave him a suddenly sheepish smile. There was a light paint to her cheeks, and she fiddled with her sunglasses in her hands.

"I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to get you out here, Garrus. The suspension was only rated for a few hundred pounds in the rear, and the tires had enough miles on them that I was worried they might get too slick even with your weight. So I got Tali to help me ramp up the shocks and Miranda sourced out some rubber for me from Earth. That wasn't a priority transport and I didn't want to abuse my Spectre status while we were out trying to save the galaxy, so I convinced Kaidan to use his, instead. Then I got Kasumi to...you know, do what she does to get a seat that was a little wider. James found me a steady source of gasoline. Edi worked the computer awhile ago to correct the air/fuel mixture for the torque, and last shore leave I put Grunt on the back of it. Figured if I crashed, his regen-ing ass would survive better than your head. But it took him pretty well, so I've been angling for leave for the last two months trying to get us back here."

Abruptly and thoroughly ashamed of his earlier mental stance, the Turian swallowed hard and asked softly, "You've worked on this thing, that long, through all that, for me?"

Shrugging slightly, she simply answered, "There's no Shepard without Vakarian."

It was clean and true, and Garrus glanced away for a second as his eyes burned. It'd been awhile since anyone other than the crew of the Normandy gave more than two shits about him, and it was a bit overwhelming that they'd all worked on this project for so long, just for him.

"Well, there's no Vakarian without Shepard, either," he finally replied as he turned back to her, and she grinned wide enough he saw teeth.

There was a quick flurry of movement and orders as she pulled a simple thin helmet onto her own head and replaced her glasses on her face. She straddled the bike and kicked up the stand before reaching down and popping up a peg on either side of the frame. Her very strict orders of keeping his feet on them at all times etched firmly in his head. So he pulled on his helmet and hesitantly walked to the side, realizing their size difference keenly. She didn't appear concerned, though, just tapped her hands on her thighs and gave him a quick nod. He clambered on, a little ungracefully, and sat on the seat that was perfectly sized for him. He paused, then, unsure where to hold on, and she laughed softly.

Very smoothly, she reached back and grabbed his hands and placed them firmly on her sides.

His tongue was large in his mouth as his sharp claws held her carefully, and he could feel her shiver slightly. Before he could foolishly say anything, she flicked her thumb and something _exploded_ under him.

He may have yelped or something else relatively pathetic, but the massive percussion echoing from the pipes on both sides of the bike drowned it out. This time he could feel her laugh through his talons, her left leg shifted slightly, and then they were moving. The bike rolled easily over the pavement, the cadence and tone of the exhaust shifting into something a little less eardrum shattering, and he held onto the woman in front of him for dear life. She started slowly, weaving out of the storage lot, and then they were on something like a road and her hand was twisting a grip that made the wind sing around them.

Their path continued for miles, a maintenance route open to them, and he gradually relaxed as he got used to the physics of the bike. Shepard was confident in her movements and had faith in his own understanding of the mechanics now; her left foot was propped on a peg above and in front of the shifter, her left hand was off the handlebar and rested just above her knee, and she was looking around as they casually roared down the ward. Garrus felt brave enough to reach up for a moment and tap his mask to retract his rebreather, the warm air flowing over his jaw and working out tension he didn't know he had.

He replaced his hand, mindlessly shifted slightly to be closer to her, and immediately froze when he felt his chest pressed to her back. But she reached up with her free hand and wrapped her fingers around his while she leaned against him. There was a flush of warmth in the Turian's face, but he just squeezed her hand and held his tongue.

For the length of the ward, he held her, she let him, and the rest of the universe faded behind the sound of an old engine and tires on concrete.


	5. Not Forgotten

Chapter 5: Not Forgotten

Setting: Post Survival ME3

Rating: T - General

Genre: Angst

Prompt: Nihlus takes his place on the Normandy's wall, and Garrus reflects. FemShep/Garrus if you squint.

* * *

It surprised the Turian to hear the words spilling from the speakers in the forward battery.

"All crew members to report to the mess at sixteen hundred hours, ship side. Dress uniforms required, as available."

There was little inflection in Edi's words, so Garrus had no context for the order, and he looked at the control panel in front of him thoughtfully. Numbers tumbled over the screen and he didn't commit them to memory as he usually did. Instead, he wondered quietly at his commander's orders. Then he snorted, jaw tightening and mandibles shifting, and he realized that that line of thought would take a lot longer to contemplate than he had left to live.

So he peddled around the batteries for a few hours before retreating to the crew's quarters at thirty minutes til. There were others in there, all scurrying around while trying their best to get some semblance of orderly dress together. Men and women were passing articles of clothing around to each other, everyone trying to get together a proper uniform. If Shepard had said 'as available', her crew took it as 'absolutely required'. The Commander allowed for life's happenings, but her crew was determined to never let her down in any way. If that was as simple as putting together clean and orderly ranks, then so be it.

"Garrus, any idea what's going on?" one man asked in quick passing, and the Turian paused in his trek to the head. "Negative, Donnelly," he answered the engineer, and he shrugged slightly at the man's cocked head. "I've got as much information as you do at this point."

Before Kenneth could ask any further, Edi's voice came over the air above them. "Garrus, Commander Shepard is requesting your presence in her cabin prior to assembly."

Ignoring the man's narrowed gaze, Garrus frowned and didn't answer the AI, instead turning towards the elevator. He ignored the twin sisters in there with him, their conversation with each other fully about the upgrades to the planet scanning equipment they were in charge of. The elevator stopped at the second floor and the galaxy map briefly lit up the interior of the small box before the doors shut again. Then there was a quick lurch and a short lift before Garrus stepped out onto the top floor of the _Normandy_.

It had been several weeks since Garrus had been at Shepard's cabin, as she didn't spend that much time in it herself. But the last time she'd called him up had been to review some findings from a raid they'd done on an old Cerberus facility. She'd found poison engineered to harm Turians specifically and had wanted his input. The situation was concerning enough that he hadn't taken much time to look carefully at her quarters.

This time, though, he could already taste the difference in the air.

The soft backbeat of music that Shepard always streamed was missing, as was the soft bubbling noise from the two fish tanks on her wall. The fish were still there, though the light was darkened and there was a shimmer of a suppression field that dulled all noises from it. The shutters across her windows were closed for the first time he'd seen, and the overall feel of the room was tight and pressing. He hesitated at the entry, running Edi's words through his head, and confirmed he was where he was supposed to be.

"Shepard?" he finally hazarded, feeling a bit silly to be standing at her entry with a change of clothes in one hand and his ceremonial blaster in the other.

Then there was slight movement at the far end of her room, down the stairs and by the side of her bed. She'd been hidden in darkness up to that point, and Garrus took two steps forward, concerned. Shepard was sitting on the floor, her arms around her legs, her chin resting on her knees and her blond hair in her eyes. The green in them was dull as she glanced up at him, and she didn't bother to toss him a fake smile – he knew her too well for that.

She said nothing, though, so he moved slowly and carefully, uncertain what side of her he was dealing with. He'd seen a lot since Saren, even more since the end of the war, and he knew better than to think he had everything in hand. So he gently set his equipment on the edge of her upper desk before picking his way down the steps towards her. Garrus didn't press any further, though, and sat carefully on the bottom step. For a moment, he remembered being at the Migrant Fleet and sitting on the top step of the common room as the Quarians tried to convict Tali of treason. He remembered Shepard shouting them down with logic and honor.

Then he looked at her and reality reasserted itself.

"Did you know Nihlus?"

That was a question he hadn't been expecting, nor did he want to answer it, truthfully. He'd avoided it for awhile – Diana Allers had asked him about Nihlus and Saren and he'd walked out on that interview with Shepard's blessing. But it was a question coming from someone he respected more than anyone in the universe, and he didn't figure he could lie to the woman who'd saved his life a thousand times.

"Yes," he finally answered, his mandibles tightening, and her green eyes met his firmly. They were a little watery, but they didn't widen with new knowledge. She'd known, then, or suspected.

"Tell me," she asked more than ordered, and Garrus glanced away for a moment, teeth clicking in his head. He didn't mean to make her wait, not really, but even though he'd been expecting this eventuality, he had never wanted to live it.

"Not much to tell, really. He joined the military at the same time as I did. His father had passed away and his mother gave him little choice in the matter. He and I were...close. Brothers. He saved my life, nearly gave his own for me on more than one occasion. When he found out I'd been scouted by the Spectres, he was angry that life hadn't gone that way for me. And when he was chosen, well...that was an interesting night. We drank, we fought. I never saw him again."

His words were quick and clipped, the truth behind them obvious but muted. He didn't want to remember his friend, his brother, like the dead body he was. He didn't want to recall the harsh words they'd had last, Nihlus accusing him of denying his potential and shouting that he had to do this for both his family and the Vakarian clan. Garrus hated that a bond so tight was broken by a simple rank.

Shepard nodded once and dropped her eyes, and in the silence of the room it was easy to hear her swallow hard.

"I didn't get a chance to know him well. We spoke only a few times on the _Normandy_ before we hit Eden Prime. He put my name up for consideration for the Spectres and was coming on the shakedown to evaluate me. Then we got groundside and Saren..."

She trailed off as she shook her head, finally pushing herself to standing. She was in her dress blues, as fit and proper as she could be, and a glittering silver saber hung from a golden sash over her shoulder. It was an incredible feat that she hadn't impaled herself on it where she sat, and Garrus stood as she walked to her lower desk with a heavy step. She pulled something from the tabletop and stared at it in her hands for a few moments before she finally turned. Holding her arms out, she presented the long thin plaque with bated breath.

 _Nihlus Kryik_

Garrus inhaled sharply as he stared at the metal plate, a familiar pain easing up in his chest. His eyes darted to hers, unsure, and the hesitation in her own gaze was almost painful. The memorial she held up was almost like a peace offering, it seemed. So he took it from her reverently, his claw slowly tracing over the name, and he found words failing him for a moment. Then his eyes darted upwards and he found her gaze locked on him with a silent furor behind the emerald.

"Saren shot him at the spaceport on Eden Prime, and we left him behind. A recovery team went through a few hours after we cleared, and half the colony had burned to the ground and they tried, they really did. They didn't know there was a Turian body there or your burial customs. They didn't contact the _Normandy_ to check and they didn't know..." Shepard paused and licked her lips, obviously frustrated. "About a year after we took down Saren, a second group went through the wreckage and found his name plate from his armor. They checked his PNOK and...I'm sorry, Garrus. He had you listed."

The alloy in his hands suddenly felt heavier than it was as Shepard quietly continued, "You were operating as Archangel and they couldn't find you, so they sent it to your PNOK, which you have defaulted as your most recent field commander. So it stayed in my things until after I returned to Earth for my hearing. I wasn't sure what to do with it until we built the memorial wall here, and then...there wasn't an appropriate time. So I waited, and I pray to God I did the right thing."

She was wringing her hands now, eyes dropped to the small plate in his hand, and he bit his tongue hard enough to bleed. "The assembly...it's for Nihlus? You're adding him to the wall?"

Shepard nodded and said nothing, though it was obvious that she was terrified of his reaction. He hesitated before reaching past her to gently drop the plate to the top of her desk. It clattered loudly in the quiet, and he gently, carefully grasped both her biceps. Looking down at the woman before him, he suddenly wondered at the fact that this person – this _human –_ had done more for him than his family ever had. The kind of closure she was offering was better than breathing, and he knew he owed her more than his life.

"Commander, you will never cease to amaze me."

That was all he said. He squeezed her arms slightly and nodded once, giving her the permission and absolution that it seemed she needed. Because while Nihlus had left Garrus behind to pursue a life of danger, Shepard had left Nihlus behind to pursue a life of honor. It was a difference he recognized now, something he could see clearly in the air between the two of them. Nihlus had been his brother, but Shepard was his everything in every other sense. And here she was putting herself at his mercy, knowing his ties to the dead Turian and offering up her own role in leaving his body behind to feed the flames. Others might do that with a gun in their hand. She had a saber that swung forgotten in its sheath.

Turian military bonds were closer than blood and soul-deep. Losing Nihlus to the siren call of the Spectres had created a deep and cynical wound in Garrus that would never heal. Because he had been his friend and his leader and his family in ways most entities couldn't imagine, and he'd just... _left_. Then Shepard had come along with her overwhelming sense of justice and loyalty and a fearless drive to heal the galaxy. He'd been included in that, had felt it even in the two years she'd been gone, and it had flared up with a vengeance upon her return like she was making up for lost time.

Nihlus was gone, and the effect he'd had on Garrus would never end, would never be removed or destroyed. But Shepard was here, now, giving him the chance to say goodbye without Batarian shard wine in his gut. Even if he could taste the alcohol like it was yesterday, his head was clear. She didn't say anything else, just gave him a slight smile, and he nodded once before turning and leaving her cabin with his things. He dressed quickly in the head and met up with the rest of the command crew in the mess at the time ordered. The entire crew stood silently as Shepard stood before them, the ID plate larger in her hands than it had been in his. She met everyone's gaze equally, though it lingered on him for a moment longer, and her words were soft when she spoke.

"We remember people we've missed, but we've forgotten that there were others lost before the fight had even begun. Nihlus Kryik was a Turian soldier and a Spectre of incredible caliber. He was family, a brother to those not of blood, and he was the first to fall to Saren's hand. We were not able to do right by him in death, but we can do right by his memory."

When she pressed the metal to the wall, the soldier's plate so much different than the others, Garrus tried to look away. Tried to see a name other than his brother's in between Legion and Mordin. Tried to keep the part of him that was Turian and therefore untouchable away from that memorial wall five feet away. When Shepard took a stand beside him, her shoulder against his, lending him the strength that he always looked up to, he knew he'd failed.

Somehow, though, he was okay with that. As long as it was Shepard holding him up, he thought...he might be okay.


End file.
